


The Infinitesimal Incantation

by shakethattree



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakethattree/pseuds/shakethattree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A shrunken Sam is intent on ruining Dean's night out and finally exacting revenge on his older brother for the endless taunts of his childhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Infinitesimal Incantation

“… And that’s when I told Angelina that I wouldn’t sleep with her because, as irresistible as I am, I don’t wanna be breaking up no marriages. I just have too much respect for Brad.’Dean finished recounting the bullshit tale with a grin on his face, taking another swig of his drink. The girl, Sophie, was eating it up, laughing hysterically as she nodded her head in assent.

     “I can totally see why,” she declared, her words just beginning to run together, “I mean, look at you… you have… you have those eyes…” Sophie giggled, placing her hand on Dean’s arm as she leaned across the table.

     Dean moved closer to hold her gaze. “What d’ya say we get outta here?” he murmured, a small smile drifting across his lips.  Her eyes strayed to his mouth and he knew he’d gotten lucky.

     “Dean!” A small cry interrupted Dean’s thoughts and he cursed colorfully under his breath. He had counted on another few hours at least.

     “What was that?” Sophie mumbled, her words blending into one confused slur, hanging onto Dean’s arm.

     Dean forced a smile. “Excuse me, sweetheart. I’ll be back in a few.”

     “ _Dean_!” the voice yelped again.

     “Shut up!” Dean hissed through his teeth as he turned and made way for the bathroom. Opening the door to the single cubicle, he slammed it shut and removed his brother from his pocket, placing him roughly on the filthy sink.

     “Ouch!” Sam cried, landing on his miniature hands and knees rather awkwardly.

     “What the hell are you doing Sammy? I promised to take you out as long as you kept your goddamn mouth shut,” Dean snarled at his brother, irritation bubbling inside him. Dean had looked upon the spell that had accidentally shrunk Sam to the size of a hamster as overall beneficial, but he had not anticipated how annoying Sammy was going to be.

     “My head was trapped under your gun,” Sam snapped, dragging himself to his feet. “And the inside of your pocket was messing up my hair.”

     Dean rolled his eyes. “Really, Sammy? You messed up my chances of getting laid because of your _hair_?”

     “Shut up,” his brother snapped. “I’m getting sick of this; when are you going to sort out this–this _situation_?” Sam gestured wildly to his shrunken form. The picture was made even more bizarre by Sam’s attire; obviously, none of his four thousand plaid shirts had shrunk with him so Dean had been forced to improvise. After a trip to a local gas station, Sam was the proud owner of a brand new pink T-shirt and tight white jeans, both of which were made for Barbies (he had downright refused to wear the mini skirt). Dean stifled a laugh– if only Sam would’ve let him braid his hair to complete the image.

     “Sammy, I told you already – this way, you can’t go gettin’ yourself into trouble. You’re always getting killed and, one of these days, you ain’t gonna come back–”

     “Dean,” Sam interjected, “You’re being ridiculous; I’ve been a hunter since I was a kid, I can look after myself!”

     “No!” Dean hissed. “You can’t look after yourself. You’re my little brother, I know what’s best for you and I ain’t lettin’ those sons of bitches near you anymore–”

     “I’m thirty years old, Dean,” Sam complained, activating the bitchface.

     “I’ve been protecting you for as long as I can remember and this… This _development_ just makes things a little bit easier. This way you can’t get involved in none of that shady crap that seems to follow you around and you don’t have to do any of the fighting; just sit there and look pretty.” Dean paused, before adding, “Plus, this way I can be taller than my little brother again. It’s kinda like being back with thirteen year old Sammy.” Dean smiled fondly at his brother, who’s anger was becoming more apparent.

     “Dean I was _not_ five inches tall as a teenager.” Sam yelled, his fists clenched by his sides. “And if you don’t get that witch to make me six foot four again, I swear to God, I will make you suffer.” Sam clearly wanted to storm off but had to settle for a resentful stare in Dean’s direction – falling off a dirty sink probably wouldn’t have brought much harm to Sam in his regular gigantor state but, as a being of similar size to a large potato, would most likely result in his tiny insides splattering on the floor. He had a feeling he wouldn’t come back from that one.

     “Sam, you’re being ridiculous. Get your ass into my pocket again.” Sam just glared at him, prompting Dean to respond with a hefty sigh. “Goddammit. Look, you’re going to get back in there and I’m going to get back to the hot girl. So shut your mouth and keep it that way, Samantha.”

     Dean held out his hand and, grumbling discontentedly about Dean’s use of Crowley’s nickname, his brother stepped into it and allowed himself to be placed into the inner pocket of Dean’s jacket. Immediately, Sam’s arm was crushed by his brother’s gun but, a mischievous smile spreading across his ping-pong ball-sized face, he made no complaint this time.

     Dean smoothed down his jacket and made his way back to the bar where Sophie was now signaling to the bartender for another drink. He thought it best to get her away from here soon before she got completely out of it. As he reclaimed his seat, Sophie’s face lit up.

     “This is Dean,” she slurred at the bartender. “He had sex with Angelina Jolie!”

     Dean smiled thinly, not bothering to correct her misquotation of his pretend story as the man raised an eyebrow skeptically. “How are you doing, beautiful?”

     Sniggering loudly, she threw a hand on his arm. “Oh, you – you and your – you know…” Dean never found out exactly what he was as Sophie snorted inelegantly and proceeded to down her next drink. He sighed and took a swig of his own.

     “So, Sophie… How ‘bout we pick up where we left off?” He leant in close, his gaze running across her face and trailing back up in a well-practiced manner. “I would take you back to my place but I’m stayin’ in a motel right now and I want you to be as comfortable as possible,” Dean murmured, coupling the words with a devastating smirk.

     “He hasn’t cleaned up from his session with ‘Busty Asian Beauties’ this morning.” The small, but clearly distinguishable voice floated up from Dean’s pocket, causing him to freeze.

     “Who said that?” A frown came across Sophie’s face as she looked around for the source of the words. “Something about… About Asian boobs?”

     “Nothing!” Dean cut in quickly.

     “But, hey, maybe he just can’t get around that easily until you push his knees together.” Dean could hear the grin in Sammy’s voice. That was a step too far.

     “So, Sophie, are you gonna finish that drink–”

     “Dean Winchester wears makeup.”

     “What? Come on Sammy, that was one time, I’m not really a painted whore–”

     “Dean Winchester cries his way through sex.” Sam’s voice had reached maximum volume and Dean could tell he was seriously enjoying revenge for spending an entire childhood enduring taunt after taunt from his big brother.

     Turning to Sophie, whose enjoyment was becoming increasingly obvious, Dean gestured wildly with his hands in a dejected manner.

     “Dean Winchester keeps a ruler by the bed and, every morning when he wakes up, he–”

     “Alright Sam, that’s it–”

     “When Dean Winchester first watched ‘American Pie’ as a teenager, he tried to recreate the scene with the pie–”

     “Oh–oh my God,” Dean spluttered, a deep blush spreading across his face. _I was fourteen years old,_ he thought angrily.

     “Yeah, he _really_ loves pie!” Sam cried gleefully.

     “Did you really put your – your _dick_ in a pie?” Sophie shrieked, clearly no longer concerned with where the mysterious voice was coming from as she screeched hysterically.

     “What? No,” Dean scoffed, his face still a furious shade of purple. _You’re dead to me, Sam Winchester_ , thought Dean as he increased the amount of pressure on his jacket pocket with his elbow. Through gritted teeth, he mumbled, “Excuse me a minute, Sophie.”

     “Alrighty. You want me to order a pie for you to take home?” she called after him, her laughter trailing after Dean as he retreated across to the other end of the bar.

     Shielding him from the gaze of a few curious onlookers attracted to the commotion, Dean grabbed his brother and roughly placed him on the counter. Sam was laughing so hard he couldn’t even pull himself to his feet.

     “Oh God – oh God. Sweet revenge,” he cackled. “You should see your face; that pout.”

     “What the hell are you doing?” Dean hissed. “Five minutes ago you were all Moaning Myrtle about that fucking spell – did you really think this was going to make me help turn you back?”

     “I’m sorry Dean. The temptation was just too–”

     Sam was cut off halfway through his sentence as a large amount of smoke began to billow out of his ears and mouth.

     “What the–?”

     The smoke enveloped his (very) little brother’s body and there was a loud pop followed by a small ripping noise. The cloud of smoke grew at a very rapid rate and some of the people in the bar began to shriek as the sound of shattering glasses filled the room.

     “Sam?” Dean yelled, trying to catch sight of his brother in the chaos. “Son of a bitch!”

     Gradually, the smoke cleared to reveal his brother, six foot four once again and–

     “ _Oh my God!_ ” A female voice shrieked the words from another corner of the room, followed by many shouts of alarm as Dean’s brother stepped out of the smoke…

     … Stark naked.

     “ _Dude!_ Come _on!_ ” Dean shouted, covering his eyes at the horrific scene unfolding in front of him.

     “Oh my God,” Sam whispered excitedly as he stared brought his hands up before his face in disbelief. “I’m tall again!”

     “Uh, Sammy,” Dean stepped closer towards his brother, his hands still clasped firmly in front of his eyes. “You might wanna… Cover up a bit. Uh, public place and all.”

     “What are you – _oh!_ ” A strangled cry escaped Sam’s mouth as he clearly realized his predicament. Dean heard footsteps followed by the sound of glass being swept to the floor and a loud thump. After a few seconds silence, Dean figured it was safe open his eyes.

     The first thing he saw was a large group of people, in varying states of inebriation, standing in the far corner of the room as they stared in shock at the giant naked man that had suddenly appeared to disrupt their night.

     That giant naked man was now crouching behind the bar to shield himself. The bartender was gazing, horrified, at Sammy as he crouched a few feet away from him. The glass he had been in the process of cleaning fell from his hands and smashed, causing Sam to notice his presence and angle his manly area in the opposite direction as he grimaced awkwardly. Dean stifled a laugh; despite the strangeness of the situation, this beat even seeing his little brother in a Barbie T-shirt.

     “Dean,” Sam hissed. “Could you–” He gestured wildly at their audience, who had begun to protest at the wild naked moose in the vicinity.

     _Oh_ , thought Dean. _As strangely amusing as this, I don’t want to have to explain my exposed brother appearing out of nowhere to the cops._ “Uh… Can I have your attention, everyone! You see, me and my partner here… We’re from the – the American Bar Standards Association!” He leaned over the bar and pulled a dishtowel from the barman’s hands, still frozen with shock. Thrusting the towel at Sam so he could cover himself, he continued, “The events you have just witnessed were part of a new program we are testing called, uh – Emergency Protocol Inspections.”

     Sam, now covering himself as best as he could with the dishtowel, reluctantly rose from behind the bar. Dean beckoned him to follow as he edged towards the door nearest to the waiting Impala. Sam complied, keeping his back against the wall at all costs and avoiding any eye contact. Dean shoved him out of the door towards the car, careful not to look at his brother’s naked form for any longer than necessary.

     Turning to the indignant crowd, he yelled, “Great news – you passed! We’ll be in touch.” And with that, he slammed the door shut and ran to the Impala, leaping into the driver’s seat as his brother dived in next to him.

     “Dean, what the hell just happened?” Sammy’s voice came from beside him but Dean averted his eyes intently, not wanting to risk seeing anything he might regret.

     Starting the car, Dean sped away before speaking in a low, threatening voice. “I don’t wanna look over there, Sammy. But, I swear to God, if you have put your bare ass on my seat, I am throwing you out right this fucking minute.”

     “Uh…”

     Dean sighed heavily. His brother was going to be spending the next week scrubbing that seat to perfection. But, hey, Dean could live safe in the knowledge that he would never again have to take his brother outside for a toilet stop. Hopefully.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what that was. The idea came from a typo. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed :)


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